


Dune: Paul’s Women, Chapter 6

by Wodric



Series: Dune: Paul’s Women [5]
Category: Dune (1984), Dune - All Media Types, Dune Series - Frank Herbert, Frank Herbert's Dune (2000)
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Incest, Masturbation, Mother-Son Relationship, Oral Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 16:38:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7540033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wodric/pseuds/Wodric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chapter’s summary:</p><p>Paul has a long talk with his father, the Duke Leto. He requests a concubine. The Duke denies the request. Paul recalls some of his and Alia’s voyeuristic memories. At night Paul remembers the first time he saw his mother naked and decides to go to her quarters were he sees her with Leto.</p><p>See chapter 5: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7090942<br/>See chapters 7, 8 and 9: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7651414</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dune: Paul’s Women, Chapter 6

Paul’s Women

Book One: DUNE

Chapter 6

How do we approach the study of Muad’Dib’s father? A man of surpassing warmth and surprising coldness was the Duke Leto Atreides. Yet, many facts open the way to this Duke: his abiding love for his Bene Gesserit lady; the dreams he held for his son; the devotion with which men served him. You see him there – a man snared by Destiny, a lonely figure with his light dimmed behind the glory of his son. Still, one must ask: What is the son but an extension of the father?

\- from "Muad’Dib, Family Commentaries" by the Princess Irulan

 

 

Paul watched his father enter the training room, saw the guards take up stations outside.

One of them closed the door. As always, Paul experienced a sense of presence in his father, someone totally here.

The Duke was tall, olive-skinned. His thin face held harsh angles warmed only by deep gray eyes. He wore a black working uniform with red armorial hawk crest at the breast. A silvered shield belt with the patina of much use girded his narrow waist.

The Duke said:

"Hard at work, Son?"

He crossed to the ell table, glanced at the papers on it, swept his gaze around the room and back to Paul. He felt tired, filled with the ache of not showing his fatigue. I must use every opportunity to rest during the crossing to Arrakis, he thought. There’ll be no rest on Arrakis.

"Not very hard," Paul said. "Everything’s so... " He shrugged.

"Yes. Well, tomorrow we leave. It’ll be good to get settled in our new home, put all this upset behind."

Paul nodded, suddenly overcome by memory of the Reverend Mother’s words: "... for the father, nothing."

"Father," Paul said, "will Arrakis be as dangerous as everyone says?"

The Duke forced himself to the casual gesture, sat down on a corner of the table, smiled.

A whole pattern of conversation welled up in his mind – the kind of thing he might use to dispel the vapors in his men before a battle. The pattern froze before it could be vocalized, confronted by the single thought:

This is my son.

"It’ll be dangerous," he admitted.

"Hawat tells me we have a plan for the Fremen," Paul said. And he wondered: Why don’t I tell him what that wise woman said? How did she seal my tongue?

The Duke noted his son’s distress, said: "As always, Hawat sees the main chance. But there’s much more. I see also the Combine Honnete Ober Advancer Mercantiles – the CHOAM Company. By giving me Arrakis, His Majesty is forced to give us a CHOAM directorship... a subtle gain."

"CHOAM controls the spice," Paul said.

"And Arrakis with its spice is our avenue into CHOAM," the Duke said. "There’s more to CHOAM than melange."

"Did the Reverend Mother warn you?" Paul blurted. He clenched his fists, feeling his palms slippery with perspiration. The effort it had taken to ask that question.

"Hawat tells me she frightened you with warnings about Arrakis," the Duke said. "Don’t let a woman’s fears cloud your mind. No woman wants her loved ones endangered. The hand behind those warnings was your mother’s. Take this as a sign of her love for us."

“Do you know the Reverend Mother?”

“Yes, Paul. I know Gaius Helen Mohiam for many years. I even knew her before I met your mother” The Duke’s voice dropped tone.

“She surely was a beautiful woman.”

The duke’s eyes seemed lost for an instant remembering some pleasant moment.

“She still is, Paul. But also a very dangerous one! She was your mother’s teacher, so I don’t think that your mother can recognize the full threat that she may represent to us."

"Does she know about the Fremen?"

"Yes, and about much more."

"What?"

And the Duke thought: The truth could be worse than he imagines, but even dangerous facts are valuable if you’ve been trained to deal with them. And there’s one place where nothing has been spared for my son – dealing with dangerous facts. This must be leavened, though; he is young.

"Few products escape the CHOAM touch," the Duke said. "Logs, donkeys, horses, cows, lumber, dung, sharks, whale fur – the most prosaic and the most exotic... even our poor pundi rice from Caladan. Anything the Guild will transport, the art forms of Ecaz, the machines of Richesse and Ix. But all fades before melange. A handful of spice will buy a home on Tupile. It cannot be manufactured, it must be mined on Arrakis. It is unique and it has true geriatric properties."

"And now we control it?"

"To a certain degree. But the important thing is to consider all the Houses that depend on CHOAM profits. And think of the enormous proportion of those profits dependent upon a single product – the spice. Imagine what would happen if something should reduce spice production."

"Whoever had stockpiled melange could make a killing," Paul said. "Others would be out in the cold."

The Duke permitted himself a moment of grim satisfaction, looking at his son and thinking how penetrating, how truly educated that observation had been. He nodded. 

"The Harkonnens have been stockpiling for more than twenty years."

"They mean spice production to fail and you to be blamed."

"They wish the Atreides name to become unpopular," the Duke said. "Think of the Landsraad Houses that look to me for a certain amount of leadership – their unofficial spokesman. Think how they’d react if I were responsible for a serious reduction in their income. After all, one’s own profits come first. The Great Convention be damned! You can’t let someone pauperize you!" A harsh smile twisted the Duke’s mouth. "They’d look the other way no matter what was done to me."

"Even if we were attacked with atomics?"

"Nothing that flagrant. No open defiance of the Convention. But almost anything else short of that... perhaps even dusting and a bit of soil poisoning."

"Then why are we walking into this?"

"Paul!" The Duke frowned at his son. "Knowing where the trap is – that’s the first step in evading it. This is like single combat, Son, only on a larger scale – a feint within a feint within a feint... seemingly without end. The task is to unravel it. Knowing that the Harkonnens stockpile melange, we ask another question: Who else is stockpiling? That’s the list of our enemies."

"Who?"

"Certain Houses we knew were unfriendly and some we’d thought friendly. We need not consider them for the moment because there is one other much more important: our beloved Padishah Emperor."

Paul tried to swallow in a throat suddenly dry. "Couldn’t you convene the Landsraad, expose–"

"Make our enemy aware we know which hand holds the knife? Ah, now, Paul – we see the knife, now. Who knows where it might be shifted next? If we put this before the Landsraad it’d only create a great cloud of confusion. The Emperor would deny it. Who could gainsay him? All we’d gain is a little time while risking chaos. And where would the next attack come from?"

"All the Houses might start stockpiling spice."

"Our enemies have a head start – too much of a lead to overcome."

"The Emperor," Paul said. "That means the Sardaukar."

"Disguised in Harkonnen livery, no doubt," the Duke said. "But the soldier fanatics nonetheless."

"How can Fremen help us against Sardaukar?"

"Did Hawat talk to you about Salusa Secundus?"

"The Emperor’s prison planet? No."

"What if it were more than a prison planet, Paul? There’s a question you never hear asked about the Imperial Corps of Sardaukar: Where do they come from?"

"From the prison planet?"

"They come from somewhere."

"But the supporting levies the Emperor demands from –"

"That’s what we’re led to believe: they’re just the Emperor’s levies trained young and superbly. You hear an occasional muttering about the Emperor ’s training cadres, but the balance of our civilization remains the same: the military forces of the Landsraad Great Houses on one side, the Sardaukar and their supporting levies on the other. And their supporting levies, Paul. The Sardaukar remain the Sardaukar."

"But every report on Salusa Secundus says S.S. is a hell world!"

"Undoubtedly. But if you were going to raise tough, strong, ferocious men, what environmental conditions would you impose on them?"

"How could you win the loyalty of such men?"

"There are proven ways: play on the certain knowledge of their superiority, the mystique of secret covenant, the esprit of shared suffering. It can be done. It has been done on many worlds in many times."

Paul nodded, holding his attention on his father ’s face. He felt some revelation impending.

"Consider Arrakis," the Duke said. "When you get outside the towns and garrison villages, it’s every bit as terrible a place as Salusa Secundus."

Paul’s eyes went wide. "The Fremen!"

"We have there the potential of a corps as strong and deadly as the Sardaukar. It’ll require patience to exploit them secretly and wealth to equip them properly. But the Fremen are there... and the spice wealth is there. You see now why we walk into Arrakis, knowing the trap is there."

"Don’t the Harkonnens know about the Fremen?"

"The Harkonnens sneered at the Fremen, hunted them for sport, never even bothered trying to count them. We know the Harkonnen policy with planetary populations – spend as little as possible to maintain them."

The metallic threads in the hawk symbol above his father ’s breast glistened as the Duke shifted his position.

"You see?"

"We’re negotiating with the Fremen right now," Paul said.

"I sent a mission headed by Duncan Idaho," the Duke said. "A proud and ruthless man, Duncan, but fond of the truth. I think the Fremen will admire him. If we’re lucky, they may judge us by him: Duncan, the moral."

"Duncan, the moral," Paul said, "and Gurney the valorous."

"You name them well," the Duke said.

And Paul thought: Gurney’s one of those the Reverend Mother meant, a supporter of worlds – " . . . the valor of the brave."

"Gurney tells me you did well in weapons today," the Duke said.

"That isn’t what he told me."

The Duke laughed aloud. "I figured Gurney to be sparse with his praise. He says you have a nicety of awareness – in his own words – of the difference between a blade’s edge and its tip."

"Gurney says there’s no artistry in killing with the tip, that it should be done with the edge."

"Gurney’s a romantic," the Duke growled. This talk of killing suddenly disturbed him, coming from his son. "I’d sooner you never had to kill . . . but if the need arises, you do it however you can – tip or edge." He looked up at the skylight, on which the rain was drumming.

Seeing the direction of his father ’s stare, Paul thought of the wet skies out there – a thing never to be seen on Arrakis from all accounts – and this thought of skies put him in mind of the space beyond.

"Are the Guild ships really big?" he asked.

The Duke looked at him.

"This will be your first time off planet," he said. "Yes, they’re big. We’ll be riding a Heighliner because it’s a long trip. A Heighliner is truly big. Its hold will tuck all our frigates and transports into a little corner – we’ll be just a small part of the ship’s manifest."

"And we won’t be able to leave our frigates?"

"That’s part of the price you pay for Guild Security. There could be Harkonnen ships right alongside us and we’d have nothing to fear from them. The Harkonnens know better than to endanger their shipping privileges."

"I’m going to watch our screens and try to see a Guildsman."

"You won’t. Not even their agents ever see a Guildsman. The Guild’s as jealous of its privacy as it is of its monopoly. Don’t do anything to endanger our shipping privileges, Paul."

"Do you think they hide because they’ve mutated and don’t look . . . human anymore?"

"Who knows?" The Duke shrugged. "It’s a mystery we’re not likely to solve. We’ve more immediate problems – among them: you."

"Me?"

"Your mother wanted me to be the one to tell you, Son. You see, you may have Mentat capabilities."

Paul stared at his father, unable to speak for a moment, then: "A Mentat? Me? But I..."

"Hawat agrees, Son. It’s true."

"But I thought Mentat training had to start during infancy and the subject couldn’t be told because it might inhibit the early..." He broke off, all his past circumstances coming to focus in one flashing computation. "I see," he said.

"A day comes," the Duke said, "when the potential Mentat must learn what’s being done. It may no longer be done to him. The Mentat has to share in the choice of whether to continue or abandon the training. Some can continue; some are incapable of it. Only the potential Mentat can tell this for sure about himself."

Paul rubbed his chin. All the special training from Hawat and his mother – the mnemonics, the focusing of awareness, the muscle control and sharpening of sensitivities, the study of languages and nuances of voices – all of it clicked into a new kind of understanding in his mind.

"You’ll be the Duke someday, Son," his father said. "A Mentat Duke would be formidable indeed. Can you decide now... or do you need more time?"

There was no hesitation in his answer. "I’ll go on with the training."

"Formidable indeed," the Duke murmured, and Paul saw the proud smile on his father’s face. The smile shocked Paul: it had a skull look on the Duke’s narrow features. Paul closed his eyes, feeling the terrible purpose reawaken within him. Perhaps being a Mentat is terrible purpose, he thought.

But even as he focused on this thought, his new awareness denied it.

However there was a personal matter that Paul needed to talk. He made an effort. Stood in silence for some moments. Hesitated.

“Father… there is another issue that I would like to talk…”

The duke smiled without joy.

“Yes. Your mother told me… you want a concubine!”

Paul nodded.

“You are young. Too young. We are moving to Arrakis and you will need to concentrate in your studies. Your focus must be total. This is not the right moment, Paul.”

Paul nodded again. This time he couldn’t avoid a bit of anger. Controlled anger. Still… anger. Why was he denying him a concubine? Couldn’t he understand that was the lack of contact with women that was disturbing him more than anything! His last nights had been a nightmare. Alia would appear in his room wearing just a translucent nightglow and would drag him in silence, sneaky, to her mother’s quarters just to spy their father and their mother together making love.

He recalled that night when her sister pulled him by her hand trough the corridors. Her body almost all visible under the tiny sleepshirt. Brother and sister were almost caught when they opened the first door in Jessica’s quarters. They weren’t in the bedroom that nigh. They were in the morning room next to the big window.

The window was opened. From outside they could hear the sound of the waves smashing the rocks on the beach, the blow of the wind, and the scream of the seagulls. As in the other nights they were completely naked. Jessica was on her knees in front of the Duke giving him pleasure with her mouth. Leto’s olive-skin made a great contrast with Jessica all white milkish skin. Both had goose bump skins due to the temperature contrast.

Paul gulped when he saw his mother sucking and licking the head of Leto’s member for a long time before taking it into her mouth. The duke moaned softly and caressed her hair encouraging her to take more of it. She stroked his cock and fondled his testicles with her hands as she continued to suckle and kiss the head. Leto’s breath begun to increase and his hips begun to move, jerking, and trying to find her mouth. Sometimes Jessica pulled it out and with her hands guided his erect moist member through the valley between her breasts just to engulf it again after a brief caressing passage. The ritual repeated after a while and Paul was impressed by his father’s stamina and her mother’s fondness and persistence.

What concerned him more was the perpetual state of arousal that these voyeuristic sessions provoked on him. Alia’s immature behavior led her to approach her body and glued on him, rubbing up her desirable body against his erect member, like a female cat in heat. Sometimes Paul would push her away, to assist to her quick return, other moments he just couldn’t or didn’t want to resist and divided his attention between his parent’s copulation and his sister’s skin to skin closeness while she would caress and stimulate herself to orgasm.

In the morning room he could see his father beginning to convulse, lifting his hips in thrusting movements as he was penetrating her vagina and not her mouth.

Paul listened the sound of the penis sliding inside out his mother mouth. A moist sound and moist smell. Suddenly the intensity of the Duke’s moans increased and Paul could even see the hot stream of white cream that come out to enter directly through his mother’s open lips. Her mouth was filled almost instantly with his spurting seed. But she didn’t give up and intensified her head movements, her tongue play, her lips caresses, her hands squeezes until there was nothing more to suck. Some of the white cream escaped from her mouth but she didn’t seem to care.

When Leto seemed to be given up, Jessica got up, and with her mouth still full she kissed her lover in a wet and passionate kiss. Their tongues melting, curling in movements that nobody could see. Her hands didn’t leave his penis. She just continued to masturbate him in slowly strokes. Then she spoke for the first time:

“I want you…”

Leto laugh…

“I need some time!”

“Now… I want you now inside me…”

“Jessica…”

By his penis she dragged him to a couch where he was dropped. Next, she seated in his lap, rubbing her breasts in his beard face, presenting her nipples to be sucked. Her right hand never letting the blood leave completely his member.

“Jessica, let me lick you…”

“Later…”

And she continued to masturbate him until she was more satisfied with his erection. Then she had to guide his penis into her because he was still not strong enough. When he was totally inside her, she begun the most sensual dance that Paul could ever have imagined.

It seemed a tribal dance. A matting dance. Her hips would make circular motions. Her ass would move up and down and in all possible directions. From Paul’s perspective her buttocks seem to have increased size even without Leto’s hand squeezing them. They seemed to gain live in fascinating movements that locked Paul’s eyes as a hypnotizer would. And he just couldn’t avoid looking to her bum.

That dance seemed to last forever. At his side Alia’s warm body would intercalate intense hand frenzy moments, under her panties, with lazy hot sweet serene ones.

Leto seemed exhausted. His sweaty body shinned in the room’s half-lights. Jessica didn’t stop her sweet torture. Until she seemed to stop:

“Tonight… I still want you from behind…”

She raised high so his member could leave her. A “plop” oiled sound was heard when the penis was pulled out. Even with the open window the smell on the room was intoxicating. The member shinned even more than the rest of Leto’s body. Their natural lubricants seemed enough for the next phase. And even if Leto’s member seemed now strong enough, she guided him to her back hole. His hands separated her ass cheeks so he could place his swollen head on the tiny slightly relaxed opening. And slowly, really slowly, very slowly, still face to face with him, she begin to be torn apart. First there was a little push forward. Then a little more before he had to retreat a small fraction and try again.

Her hands weren’t needed anymore to support his member, and she begin to caress herself, masturbating herself, so she could relax even more. Her mouth lips were closed around Leto’s mouth and she sucked all the air from his lungs as she was impaled, her vagina lips and her clitoris were caressed by her shaky hands. And he entered her just a bit more.

Paul was seduced by that slow ritual. Alia was speechless and completely motionless despite her obvious state of arousal.

In the couch he entered her just a bit more. He had to retreat again, let her accommodate him before he could move slowly his hips again.

With a grunt he gave the last push. And that was it! He was completely inside her. They stood still, the only movement between the two was the caresses that Jessica was doing with her own hands.

“I am inside…”

She smiled to him. It was a redundant thing to say.

Then they begun to move again in unison. They moved their hips… their bodies… their souls…

The first lights of the dawn were already visible in the window when the Duke begun a new frenzy soon followed by Jessica. Paul had guessed that his mother had already reached several orgasms so he was stunned with that new moment. They were already dripping sweat and the moment passed by as quick as it came. Leto grunted one last time. His spur was shot inside her. And she finally fell on him. His penis leaved her while his white cream seemed to drain from her hole.

In that odd position they felt asleep and Paul, again, picked up a sleepy Alia on his arm to get out of there before they were caught. On the corridors the newborn sunrays gave him enough light to follow his path and he noticed that Alia’s nightglow had opened in her chest to reveal her already well developed perky breasts.

In that moment Paul’s mind returned to his present. His path.

His father was looking at him.

“Do you understand my decision, Paul?”

“No father, I can respect it, but I don’t understand.”

“In either case my decision is final for now. Thufir Hawat agrees with me. After the things are settled in Arrakis we can reevaluate that issue.”

***

The night had fallen. It was his last nigh in Caladan. It was already been decided that Alia would stay in Caladan with Iphigenia until could be consider safer in Arrakis. Paul would miss her and would miss Iphigenia.

Paul was confused. He was not focused… he was digressing.

His mind went back to some months ago... when he begun his lust for his mother.

He toured the corridors of the castle and went to his mother’s quarters. The door was unlocked. He crossed it to her bedroom.

Her warm voice filled the air with a slow sad song. A song that she had cradled him so many times. Sometimes her crystal voice raised in a verse, other it was just a soft murmur.

“Mom!” he called.

She was sited in her bed brushing her long ginger hair.

Although she was completely naked she made no efforts to cover herself. It was clear that she was surprised to see her son in that hour of the night. Her face showed a quiet and introspective solitude.

Paul didn’t recall to ever seeing his mother naked. He hesitated. But his curiosity was bigger than his fear. He knew no other woman. Just his mother and some images in filmbooks.

She finally realized that her son was staring at her.

“Paul!” she whispered “you are awake!”

She laid the brush on the bed, stood up and took two steps to catch a bathrobe resting on the couch, giving him the opportunity to glance her body. In those seconds he used his training to memorized her soft creamy skin, her elegant waist, her protuberant heavy round breasts, the small reddish bush triangle between here legs.

Paul sustained is breath, like a diver in the Caladan seas, and saw his mother cover herself with the loosely tied rope. He still could see a portion of her mother’s left breast between the limits of the fabric and its white translucent materiel.

“Is father in his quarters?” Paul knew that his parents only occasionally shared the same bedroom.

“No, Paul, your father had to leave. He will only be back tomorrow to the castle.”

Paul took a deep breath and gained courage to say:

“I had never seen you naked before”!

“Yes, you have… you just don’t recall it… you were a baby… I breastfeed you”

“I like to see you naked! I like to see your breasts…”

He raised his hand a bit, as he was to touch her…

Jessica showed a sad smile.

“I know, darling. I think you always liked. I breastfeed you… and when Iphigenia had to do it… you cried and claimed for me… you weren’t an easy task for her…”

“Why did you stop it?” wanted to know Paul.

Jessica stopped brushing her hair rose her face and look to him.

“You know the answer. Why are you asking me this?”

“I would like to be breastfeed again.”

Jessica smiled again in silence.

“I am sure you would, but you are too old for that Paul” and she added “besides, I don’t have milk anymore.”

“I don’t mind!” he muttered noticing that his mother’s rope was slightly opened.

Jessica didn’t knew if it was the innocent tone or her motherly will to satisfy his curiosity. In that moment she felt sorry for his son. He was very alone, in that vast cold stone castle. Without ever having met other children to play with. Always in the company of serious men and harsh teachers. Men with the Master of Assassins, Thufir Hawat, the swordmaster Duncan Idaho, the troubadour warrior, or the Suk doctor Yueh. With male guards and servants in all the corridors. Without a single female constant presence besides her own mother. She also knew to where he was staring. She had the conscience that her half-untied rope didn’t cover all her body revealing too much of her long slim legs and her cleavage formed by those perfect breasts. The thin tissue was more adequate to be used before her duke that before her son. She had enough experience with one man to know the effect that a half-naked women could produce to a man.

“Come here” she said opening her arms to receive him. In that instant, he could see under her transparent robe. 

He sat down on the bed, placed his had one her lap and let his mother embrace him. He let her warm body fence him. Her hands locked his face and she look him with her green beautiful eyes. Slowly she moved down and kissed his forehead. That day his skin seemed to burn him in the places she touched him with her full lips.

He closed his eyes as she continued to deposit soft kisses in his forehead, in the tip of his nose, in his chin, in his face, in his eyelids. When she slightly kiss him in the lips allow him to roll over. She pushed aside the robe and uncovered her left breast. Her nipple was protuberant when she pressed it against Paul’s lips.

Paul opened his eyes then his mouth. His lips encircled that erect nipple and he begun to suck softly in the beginning, then in a crescent eager motion, with his tongue savoring the texture of her nipple, wrapping it, savoring her skin aroma, that exotic mixture of her natural odor with her perfume’s scent. He suckled as there was no tomorrow, as he could drink nectar from her heavy breast.

Her hands supported him in the back of his neck, caressing in waves his hair. She begun to sing again.

As any teenage would try, he moved his hand and pulled away the other edge of the robe to reveal her other breast. And while suckling her left breast, he let his hand play with the right one, moving careless the tips of his fingers barely touching her skin. Trembling when closing contact with the nipple. Tinkling it. Playing with it as a child would play with a new toy. Soon her breasts were undulating like waves under his hand and his lips.

Jessica knew that had to break contact. The bulge in his pant was already visible.

“It is enough now!”

Her tone was clear, and Paul knew that there was not turning back after those words. He smiled when his lips and hands were firmly removed from his mother’s warm body.

She gave him a last kiss in the forehead.

“You should go to your bedroom now. Tomorrow you will have to wake up early for your classes.”

Paul could clearly recall when he got back to his bedroom with a dumb smile in his face and a sensation that was a strange merger between satisfaction and insatisfaction.

His mind brought him back to the present.

He was frustrated. First he thought to visit his mother’s quarters. That he recalled that his father would be there. And in that night he didn’t want to see his father. The he thought to go to his sister’s quarters. Maybe if his sister was asleep he could talk to Iphigenia. He only knew one thing: he needed a female company.

Paul went directly to his mother’s quarters. As son as he passed the first room, he knew his father was already there. Silently, covered by the darkness, he approached the bedroom. Some lights were on there. Then he saw them.

Jessica was lying in the bed, her dress fallen off her breasts, the skirt raised up until her hips. Her beautiful bare feet hanging over the bed, her legs slightly parted under the dress. She was gorgeous in her half-nakedness. Facing the bed, with his knees on the carpet, was a naked Leto kissing her tights, with his face buried between Jessica’s legs. His strong hands covering the exposed breasts. His fingers playing with her nipples.

He was working well because Jessica was puffy, with her hands pressing Leto’s face against her pelvis, her fingers ran in rhythm through his hair, revolving it like a comb would. She was sweating, with drops dripping in her cleavage, in her face, in her legs. She screamed several times and lifted her hips from the bed while he pushed more his face making little sucking sounds.

Paul gritted his teeth, in that moment that they were ready to leave Caladan, he only seemed jealous of his father. Unconsciously he gave a step further the bedroom and in that moment his mother saw him.

She saw him standing there. Three steps from the bed. With a lost expression in his face and an outsized erection. Just before she reached her orgasm Paul could understand the words murmured by her lips.

“Go away…” 

He went.

He needed air. Fresh air. So he could think clearly. Rationally. Like a Mentat.

Corridors were wandered. Guards were passed. Finally he went through a door and reached is room’s balcony. Outside it was raining. He got soaked in just an instant. The harsh wind of the nigh blowed against the tower and against his face. He wondered if it was enough to his blood could cool down.

He let the wind and the rain embrace him. Closed his eyes and lost track of time.

“Paul!” his mother found him near the balcony’s parapet.

She embraced him from behind, as she had fear that he would approach the balcony’s limit.

Paul didn’t hear her call. He just felt her tender embrace. And she was almost naked, just had her body covered by a light cape, buttoned to the neck.

The soft volume of her breasts was pressed against his back. He could feel her even with his soaked cloths. Her hands were embracing him, her arms tightening their bodies like a shell. And he recalled his father giving her pleasure. He placed his hand over hers and led their hands down, to his perpetual erection.

No words were said.

She understood his need. In quick movements, she lowered a bit his trousers and his shorts, just to release his member, than while her left hand roamed caresses in his already half naked chest, her right hand had encircled his manhood, squeezing it, pumping it while murmuring tender words to his hear, biting his lobe.

Paul could not stand. His knees were weak, he bend a little when his legs failed him. His arms went to the parapet looking for support. Jessica never let him fall, always manipulating his penis, she was glued to his back, her right arm moving in a frenetic crescendo following his jerking hips.

If that night some guard would look to that balcony would find strange to see his duke’s concubine embracing her son from behind and both moving a strange dance under the night’s rain.

A thunder roared in the skies drowning out Paul’s cry. His semen was projected in the air and mixed with the heavy rain.

Finally he turned to face his mother, slid his hands under her cape and caressed her heavy breasts while his lips searched her mouth and his tongue penetrated her in a soft tender kiss as she continued to milk him until he was dry. The rainfall didn’t stop and they were already completely soaked.

The next day they would go to Arrakis.


End file.
